


The Pancho Problem

by badwolfrun



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Film Noir, M/M, Noir AU, POV First Person, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/badwolfrun
Summary: Trouble always seems to follow Nick Stokes. After their friend Warrick Brown mysteriously disappears, Nick goes rogue and is framed for a murder that he didn’t commit. It’s up to Greg Sanders to clear Nick’s name as well as help him find Warrick, receiving help from an unsuspected person.





	1. Flip side of the Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Set near the end of season 6, when Nick's hair returned to normal. Daddy's Little Girl never happened. POV throughout this fic will be Greg's.

Las Vegas. The city that never sleeps, though you wouldn’t know that in this part of town. Far from the strip, away from the bright neon lights and casinos, a silence looms over the dark side of the moon. Fog is beginning to spread its way through every street, every alleyway, every crack of the neglected shadow of sin city. There are no stars in the sky tonight, only bushels of clouds.

After the triple homicide I just closed, the droplets of a light drizzle offer a sort of catharsis, though the real comfort will come later at home with _him_ by my side.

The history of this city, coupled with a new appeal for the aesthetics of noir-style mystery movies has caught my attention as of late. Over the past year, a lot of things have changed within me. All of us have changed, really, since the...incident last summer. But _he’s_ changed most of all, though that’s not a surprise. Perhaps that’s why he agreed to come over and watch movies that came out before either of us were born.

“Control, this is Charlie-O-3 Stokes, shots fired, in pursuit of three suspects--”

Gunshots snap, crackle and pop through the speakers on the radio. For a moment, I freeze, slamming my foot on the brakes, not caring that my car is stopped in the middle of a deserted intersection. The once comforting silence is now filled with dread and paranoia, _did he get shot?_

 _“_ Charlie-O-3 Stokes, Control, Respond,”

More gunshots before his voice speaks through the radio, with increased ferocity and speed.

“Three suspects, armed--black van, license plate: Zoey Delta Zero--FU--”

Two more gunshots, and then Nick speaks again, his tone is flat, defeated.

“Control, suspects’ vehicle turned left onto Charleston. They have CSI Warrick Brown.”

The front of the lab is swarming with alternating red and blue lights by the time I arrive. I jump out of my vehicle, eyes scanning the swarming crowd for Nick--hopefully he wasn’t stupid enough to try and follow the suspects on foot.

Sara Sidle spots me, waving her hand in the air for me to come over, but she didn’t need to. I could see Nick’s head above everyone else’s, though his square jaw is pointed to the ground, his head hung in some sort of shame. A wave of relief falls through my body that they’re standing next to a light post and not an ambulance. Sofia stands next to them, jotting down notes in a notebook. Nick is recounting the events of the shooting, eyes closed, face scrunched in concentration.

“Next thing I know, lab’s covered in smoke, fire alarms’ going off, I was on the ground, trying to catch my breath...I remember seein’ Warrick in the Trace lab, trying to pull something outta one of the suspect’s arms. Another guy ran in, tried to knock him out, but Warrick wrestled him off, managed to get the guy’s gas mask and put it on himself. Then, all three of them ran out, the last guy joined ‘em, I was able to catch my breath and tried to get one of ‘em on their way out--”

He lifts up his right hand, a blood soaked bandage over his knuckles.

“Couldn’t see the face, I think I got ‘em in the mask. I ran outta the building and they started firin’ at me and Sara--we fired back. I fired...maybe...five shots? Warrick--uh, Warrick, he...got into the back of the van with two of the guys, the other got in through the passenger’s side. I called it in, tried to get their license plate, only got three digits--Zoey Delta Zero--and...here we are.”

“Thanks, Nick. Sara, anything to add? Were you able to get a clear view of the license plate?”

“No, I was just on my way in when the suspects ran out. I couldn’t get a clear view of the license plate, I had dodged a few bullets behind that red car parked over there...I saw them turn onto Charleston, and that was it.”

“Okay, thanks, guys. I’ll keep you posted...we’ll find him.”

Multitude of questions about the events Nick described swirl in my head, but I start with the most important one.

“Are you guys okay?”

Sara nods, then mutters something about calling Grissom while Nick finally lifts his head up, his eyes are red, his hands are still shaking.

“Yea-yeah, Greg, we’re fine,” Nick sighs. He puts his hand on my shoulder to reassure me, but the amount of pressure he puts on tells me he’s not exactly “fine.”

“I couldn’t stop them.”

“You did the right thing, calling it in--”

“But I _should_ have stopped them, Greg! I just--”

He twists away, pacing a little back and forth, before unleashing his pent up anger on the trunk of the nearest police cruiser. I lifted my hand in an awkward, apologetic wave to a passing officer.

His back rises and falls like a balloon being filled with air, I could hear him attempt to steady his deep, shaky breathing. I’m reminded of the McBride case, how he stormed out of the police station after an intense interrogation. I place my hand on his shoulder, just as I did then.

“You did the right thing, man,” I repeat, squeezing my hand, as if to squeeze up the tension from his body like a sponge. It seems to work, the leather on his jacket loosens as his shoulder falls from my fingers.

He nods and looks back at me, a single tear sliding down his cheek before he quickly wipes it away. But there was no hiding the despair in his eyes. You’d have to be blind not to see the bond that Nick and Warrick have, a bond that was nearly severed last summer with the threat on Nick’s life. I saw firsthand how it tore Warrick apart, and now I’m seeing the other side of the coin.


	2. The Ghosts in the Smoke

Walking into the lab is like stepping into a time machine. A thin layer of smoke is still lingering in the air of the lab, it smells like something is burning, though there’s no fire. Everything is cast in the yellow tint of the emergency lights, they must have cut the power to stop the fire alarms. Broken glass is spread throughout the halls, papers are strewn about, there’s a buzz of lowered voices and concerned questions as lab technicians start to enter the building again. Years ago, when the lab was in a similar state of disarray, the world was sideways and upside down, and the only sound I heard was a loud ringing tone. Right now, the world is right-side up, and the tone is gone, but my fingers still seem to tremble.

“Looks like they got both sides of the lab...I’ll start in Grissom’s office, work my way around.” Sara mumbles, haunted by the same ghost that has constrained my hands.

“Sounds good, I’ll check out Trace, see if there was anything left behind.”

“I’ll check DNA.”

Walking through the smoke to get to the DNA lab is like wading through water. My feet act as anchors, every step feels like I’m lifting my feet out of wet cement. Nick turns back, noticing my hesitation and places himself in front of me. 

“You all right, man? I can take DNA if you want--”

“It’s fine. Nobody knows that lab better than me.”

“I’m just sayin’, flashbacks are a serious thing, dude, and based on the way your hands are shakin’, I reckon this is like walkin’ into the Twilight Zone.”

“I said  _ it’s fine _ . It happened years ago, man, I’m all good.”

My attempt at reassurance sounds more hostile than I intended, but Nick doesn’t seem to buy it anyway.

“Just ‘cause it happened years ago doesn’t mean you’re over it.”

“You’re one to talk.”

I had said it under my breath, more to myself than to anyone else, but he heard it. I can see it in his fallen expression, flaring nostrils, his slow shaky exhale. His mouth hangs open, as if he was going to say something back, but he just turns away and headed towards Trace.

My only regret is that he heard those words, it’s been nearly a year since his abduction and he acts like it never even happened. Maybe it’s the best way to deal with the torture he had to endure, but we all see-- _ I  _ see how much it still affects him. Twenty four hours in hell and it shows in more ways than one, whether he’s rougher in interrogation with suspects in kidnapping cases, uncomfortable in tight spaces at crime scenes, the way he constantly looks over his shoulder. I worry that at this point, he’s a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at a moment’s notice, and may not ever recover.

Who am I to judge, though, a guy who hands still shake as he enters a room he once considered a second home?

There’s broken glass on both sides of the lab, two holes in the windows on each side of the room. I envision the canister flying through one side, passing through the other. Outside of the broken glass, everything seems to be in its place on the counters surrounding the room. The table in the center of the room, however, is knocked over, its contents all spilled on the floor. Perhaps the suspect that Nick described cut through DNA to get to Trace, which is right across the hall.

As the ghost of the suspect passes through, my eyes land on Nick, hunched over, holding something in his hand. It’s small, silver, perhaps a coin? He balls it up in his fist, and then glances over at me. I enter the time machine once more, and step out with spiky hair and a white lab coat, looking over at him in Trace, or the A/V Lab, or in the hallways that surround this lab rat’s hideout. Sometimes it felt like he never noticed me. But here he is, right now, my hair is flat, the lab coat is gone, and he sees me. 

I nod at him, my hand half-rising in a wave, a signal, to let him know I was okay, that he was okay, that  _ everything will be okay _ , but he had already turned his head back towards the scene in front of him. 

“Hey, Greg, Cath want us to meet in the evidence room in five, could you pass word along to Nick? I’m going to talk to Archie real quick, see if he got anything from the security cam footage.”

“Yeah, sure, Sara, meet you there,”

I walk over to Trace, this time my feet feeling like anchors for a different reason. Is he going to grab me by the shoulder like he did a few years ago, telling me to keep out of his private life once more?

“Hey, uh, Catherine wants us all to meet in the break room in five.”

He’s still hunched over, crouching on the ground, flashlight in hand.

“Okay, sounds good, G. Thanks.”

His voice is thick, his accent heavy. Sounds like he’s hiding or suppressing something. 

“Hey, I-I cleared DNA, other than the broken glass and table knocked over, doesn’t seem like anything’s missing. Need help in here?”

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“Listen, man, what I said earlier--”

“It’s fine.” He says it in the same tone I spat at him minutes before. Ouch. “Let it go, Greg.”

“Okay...I’ll see you in five.”

I walk over to the break room, where Catherine is already stationed. Her head is in her hands, the files of Warrick’s current case file spilled in front of her. She’s on the phone, perhaps to Grissom, the stress in her voice as high as the ceiling.   


“I don’t know _ anything  _ yet, Gil, I was working a 419 when I got the call...We’re getting together in the evidence room right now.... _ Delayed? _ Well, how much longer--...Alright. Call me as soon as you land, I’ll have someone at the airport waiting....Alright.”

“Grissom’s flight got delayed?”

“Yeah, hell of a time, too. Probably get here faster if he just walked. Were you here when this all happened?”

“No, I was just coming back from closing a triple homicide.”

“Hey,” Nick walks in, putting a hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “Without talking to Hodges, I don’t know what they took, but they definitely took  _ something _ , lab was a mess. From what I remember seein’, it looks like they took a few evidence jars and a bunch of reports.”

“Did Warrick leave anything behind?”

“Nah, nothing,”

Nick stares down as his hand, and for a second, I can see a quarter resting in his palm. 

“We’ll get him back, Nicky,” Catherine encourages him. He doesn’t look up at her, just nods silently. 

“Hey, guys, Archie was able to get something from the security footage from the lobby...You’re going to want to see this.”


End file.
